All New, Faded for Her
by ashestoroses018
Summary: There are no sweeter words than this: Nothing lasts forever. When Solas met the Dalish girl who was cursed with his mark, he was brought back to the past-to a time before he made a mistake that ruined the world. SERIOUS spoilers for Trespasser DLC as well as the main story. Solas x Mage Inquisitor. Implied Past Solas x Lavellan (Arlathan era).
1. Chapter 1

One

When Solas' eyes fell upon the Dalish girl who bore _his_ anchor, he was both wracked by guilt and unimpressed. She was merely a Dalish-they were snobs who thought themselves better than other elves, yet they weren't even a shadow of the Elvhen.

As his eyes rested on the near-dead Dalish girl, he found himself reminiscing about the last time he had to heal someone who was so near death.

* * *

The sign of Sylaise marked the slave's left eye. So she had most likely belonged to a lower class noble house. Usually high-class nobles preferred Andruil or Elgar'nan. Hopefully, this elf had been treated well as a slave. So many were not; it would be good to see one that had at least been fed normal amounts of food. However, there was no way for Fen'Harel to truly know; not if she remained in this dead-like state, anyway.

The girl had been like this since moments after she arrived. Her surprising entrance, which involved falling at the foot of a wolf on the top floor of his sanctuary, half-dead; had caused quite the commotion with his guards.

Plenty of his guards had asked why, exactly, he had not just removed her vallaslin while she was asleep, since it might be weeks before she awoke, but...He loved the look on escaped slaves' faces after he freed them. It didn't matter to Fen'Harel that there were "more pressing" matters to attend to. He was an _immortal_ like all Elvhen; the war against the Evanuris could wait. They hadn't done anything _too_ drastic, anyway...Not yet, at least.

Even so, nearly a month passed before there was any change in her condition. Fen'Harel had been losing hope, spending less and less time at her side, healing her. However, he had finally heard from one of his mage followers-a healer who had been stationed in the girl's room-that she had finally awoken.

Now, he would finally be able to greet this mysterious stranger and find out how she had come to his doorstep so injured.

"Andaran atish'an, da'len," he said in greeting, momentarily struck by the brightness in her (unusual color) eyes. "I am Solas, though many call me Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. It is, of course, a badge I wear with pride. Now...Who are you?"

The girl got a panicked look on her face. Inwardly, Fen'Harel smirked at her shock. He was careful not to allow the emotion to pass on to his face, however.

"Ir abelas, hahren. I had no idea I would be meeting the Dread Wolf, himself, so I fear I am frightfully underdressed." She smiled. "So, please forgive me. Ahem, as you can tell, I am a slave and have no titles or lands, so I have no official name to call my own. My mistress calls me Lavellan, however."

"Ah, a weed[1], then. How lovely of your mistress. She follows Sylaise, then?"

"Oh, no, hahren. My mistress is a slave, herself. But the master of the household respected her abilities enough to leave her in charge of the kitchen staff. Our master is so rich that he has slaves for different duties, marked with the vallaslin of different gods. I work in the kitchens, of course, so I'm marked with Sylaise. Guards are marked with Andruil or Elgar'nan." The girl paused to take a breath. "And my mistress calls me Lavellan, because I always sprout up when she least expects it, and I am very difficult to get rid of. Her words, not mine, of course."

Fen'Harel blinked, momentarily stunned by just how much this girl could say with nary a single breath. "Slow down, da'len. Please."

The girl blushed. "Sorry, hahren."

"What I intended from my previous question, da'len, was to find out who your owner was."

"Oh, silly me!" She giggled. "A king, hahren; a follower of Dirthamen." Well, shit. He'd never had a slave from a _king_ before. Usually guards were tighter on slaves of the upper-class nobles.

"Da'len," he spoke urgently, eyes wide. "do you know if you were followed?" He swiftly gestured for the healer mage to leave the room, so he could speak with this...Lavellan...privately.

"Of course I was! And I managed to slit four of their throats before one noticed me. He got me pretty good with some lightning, but I ran faster than he could cast! I'm very fast. Not very skilled at magic, but...I'm fast!"

Fen'Harel paused. "Is that why you collapsed on my floor?"

"Oh, no!" She grinned, wickedly. " _That_ happened because I pissed off one of your spirit-y sentinels, down below. Smacked me good against the head, he did. Didn't cause me any problems until I made my way to that damned veilfire test, though. Trying to light the flame just hurt my head too much, I think. Told you, I'm shite when it comes to magic. On my best days, I can summon veilfire with only a _slight_ headache."

 _Spirits_ , this girl needed to learn to shut her mouth once in a while. Fen'Harel was already exhausted from just _listening_ to her. He couldn't imagine what it was like in her _head_!

"Well. Thank you for explaining everything to me. Would you like me to remove your bonds, Lavellan?"

"Oh, no! I plan on going back! I'm real good at getting information. Nobody notices me, since I'm only a kitchen girl. I want to be a spy for you, if you'll have me, Dread Wolf."

He blanched. "I have many agents throughout Arlathan. What makes you worth the risk, da'len?"

"Did no one search my person while I was out?" The girl leaned over the side of her cot, reaching for a satchel laying on the ground. She brought out a carefully wrapped object and handed it to Fen'Harel. "I told you, hahren. I'm good at not being seen. And my master is a very, very important man. I want to help your cause in any way I can!"

As he unwrapped it, his eyes widened in surprise. "Is this the Orb of Dirthamen? How did you retrieve it?"

"Wasn't hard, really. It was lying on his desk when I brought him his food. Looked important, so I _accidentally_ spilled steaming soup on him. Swiped it and hit it while he called some guards to take me away. After my whippings, I just snagged it from the flower pot I'd hid it in and left. So much kitchen staff at his castle, I doubt they even notice I'm gone. Especially since I got the mistress to cover for me."

Fen'Harel was astonished. "You are truly willing to risk life and limb to provide me with your king's information?"

"Duh! You're the only reason us slaves have any hope. We only have hope because you're out here, freeing us. If I can help in any way, I will be proud to continue to wear the vallaslin, hahren."

The Dread Wolf took a deep breath. "I'll need to know how many slaves your master owns-not an approximation; I need exact numbers. I'd like to know how many are sympathetic to our cause. I need to know how often you can send information, and how often you can feasibly see the king."

"Okay! I won't have the numbers right away, but I can easily figure out the rest before I leave!"

Fen'Harel nodded and walked out. As he rubbed his temples, he tried to think of ways to tail this "Lavellan" to make sure she wasn't a spy for her master-if her master even was a king.

Notes:

[1] There are many roots, flowers, etc. that have gone extinct since the times of Arlathan. I figured, why not make her name mean something, yeah?

 _ **Translations:**_

Andaran atish'an - a formal welcome

Da'len - student, inferior/younger person who deserves respect

Hahren - elder, teacher, older person deserving respect

Solas - pride, to stand tall

Fen'Harel - Wolf Trickster, Wolf of Dread/Dread Wolf

Dirthamen - god of secrets

Evanuris - the elven pantheon

Elvhen - ancient elves

Sylaise - goddess of the hearth

Andruil - goddess of the hunt

Elgar'nan - the all-father. The god of revenge.

Arlathan - lit. "our hearts/our love". Ancient Elvhen empire.

Ir abelas - I'm sorry


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Solas was certain the girl with his mark was stabilised, at this point, and it sounded like the battle was drawing closer. Glancing once more at the Dalish, to make sure she wasn't in pain, he grabbed his staff and ran outside, preparing to fight off the demons his stupidity had drawn from the Fade.

After fighting for what must have been at least two or three hours, he heard the Seeker and...some other female voice...join the fray. Glancing over, he realized it was the Dalish prisoner from before. So she was a mage?

There was no time to ponder that; he just needed to see if the mark from his anchor could seal these rifts. Which, after he focused her mark on the rift, he found it could. After the rift was closed, the child of Stone introduced himself to the prisoner. Solas figured he should probably introduce himself as well.

In a lilting voice, strongly accented by the Eastern Free Marches, she introduced herself. "I am Ellana, from Clan Lavellan."

 _What._ No. This was just too much of a coincidence. Why now; why _here_? When had young Lavellan formed a clan? Had the clan just named themselves for her? Was it just a clam naming themselves for an ancient weed that had (unusual eye color) blooms? He would have to look into this uncanny coincidence-Later, of course.

After defeating the Pride demon and stemming the Breach's growth-for the time being, at least-This "Lavellan" was spent, and needed time to recover. Solas cast a simple healing spell on the unconscious girl to provide her with some relief, then left her in the care of Adan, the apothecary.

Solas needed some time alone, to think; to wander the Fade in search of any and all information regarding the conception of Clan Lavellan. Rather than focus on the Free Marches, though, he found himself immersed in a strong memory of Terasyl'an Te'las.

* * *

"Lethallin, you _need_ to trust me on this information. My sources are good!" Lavellan was nearly running to keep up with his angry pace through the stronghold. "How many decades- _centuries_ -have I followed you, Solas? And yet you won't trust me in this matter?"

Solas growled, turning on his friend and most trusted informant. "Lavellan, listen to me: it is too dangerous. You no longer bear the vallaslin. You cannot fade into the background so easily, anymore. The people at this ball will know you are a former slave as soon as you walk in. And even if you were not, all former slaves are assumed to be my followers."

"I know it's risky, but I'm the only person capable or available to do this job, Solas! We can't let an opportunity like this pass! We might never get another chance to Falon'din's foci, and you damn well know it! Do you need it or not?"

He growled again. "Of course I do, lethallen, but I would not risk one of my best friends and most faithful followers over it. There are other ways to gain power over these false gods."

"Yes, Fen'Harel. But how long will they take to prepare their next attack? The Evanuris are already making moves against Mythal. We are _all_ in danger, lethallin. How long are you willing to wait before we take action?" His oldest, dearest friend stormed off before he had the chance to respond.

* * *

Solas awoke with a start, sweat streaming down his face. Normally, he could control his wanderings through the Fade with ease. Why not now?

Wiping his brow, he sighed. The memory he had seen in the Fade was burned into his mind. If he had just allowed Lavellan to go to that _fucking_ ball, Mythal wouldn't have died. He would have had the power necessary to protect her.

Things would have been very different, indeed, but... At the same time, Lavellan may have failed and been hung publicly for treason. He wouldn't have had the foci, so Mythal would have stilled died; and his most trusted friend would have been gone as well.

Yes. He had to stand beside his decisions, no matter how things had turned out. Everything in this world was a result of his pride. This was the world he had wrought. He would see it fixed or die trying.

Solas owe that much, at least, to Mythal and the People. He sighed and went back to sleep.

 _ **Translations**_

Terasyl'an Te'las - lit. the place that holds back the sky. Skyhold.

Lethallin - male, respected friend

Lethallen - female, respected friend

Vallaslin - slave markings; blood ink

Falon'din - the god of death

Mythal - the goddess of life and protection. The only Evanuris on Fen'Harel's side.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

"I've always liked the name Halani," Lavellan said.

"Why Halani? Does that not doom the child to a life of martyrdom?"

"Oh, Solas! It's a beautiful name. So what if it means help? Is that not what our people do?" Fen'Harel's spymaster patted her growing stomach. "I hope I have a girl. They're supposed to be much easier to raise." She giggled.

"I still fail to see how you can be happy about your predicament, seeing as how I caused this for you."

"Oh, please, Solas. I would gladly do more than seduce a general to help our cause. Besides, I always wanted to be a mamae."

"But think of the world you'll be bringing the young one into. There will probably be centuries more of fighting, at the very least, before we come to a conclusion, lethallen."

"Then my child will learn the ways of war. Hopefully she or he is more skilled at magic than I am. Evanuris only know we need more mages on _our_ side."

"The Evanuris aren't gods, nor are they all-knowing."

"Says _Fen'Harel,_ the god of rebellion." Lavellan shot him a mischievous smirk.

"Yes, says Fen'Harel, the _leader of_ a rebellion."

Lavellan sighed. "Oh hush, Solas. Everyone needs something to believe in. It's not like we die of old age. If our people didn't have something to believe in, they wouldn't be willing to give their lives for freedom. They would just go to a quiet place far away and spend eternity in Uthenera. Just spend their last days dreaming."

"That does not mean we should allow anyone to raise themselves up to godlike status!" he yelled.

"You're right, of course, hahren. But... Don't tell our followers that. Just allow them to believe. It makes the prospect of possible death much easier for them to handle."

Solas sighed. "Fine. But it feels wrong to lie to them like this, Lavellan."

"I know, lethallin; I know." She patted his knee, then left his office to patrol the rest of his sanctuary...Temple?

 _Spirits_ , his followers were turning this safe haven into a temple to worship him, weren't they? He'd need to find a new base of operations soon. One for only himself and the closest of his confidantes.

* * *

Solas awoke with a start to sudden, blinding light in his cabin. Goodness, he was completely losing control of his dreams. This wasn't like him at all. Were the spirits trying to tell him something?

He'd have to figure this out-and soon. Else he'd never have a restful night again. Running a hand down his face, he sighed and got out of bed.

 _'May as well just remain in my sleeping clothes,'_ he thought. _'I doubt anyone would think anything of an apostate elf wearing only a tunic and leggings.'_

He went outside to get a breath of fresh air and collect his thoughts, when the so-called Herald of Andraste came up to him. Solas hadn't gotten a good look at her before, but as soon as he saw her eyes, he had the urge to growl like the wolf he was remembered as.

 _'Is this what you were trying to bring to my attention, Spirits? So she has the same eyes as my old friend, as well as a similar hair color. It is not that uncommon for elves to look alike...'_

"I would like to know more about elves, if you'd tell me." Interesting. He hadn't expected a Dalish to be so humble, since they always seemed so high and mighty in his wanderings.

"What would you like to learn?"

"Everything!"

Solas chuckled quietly. "Would you be more specific, Herald?"

"You seem to know wo much about the ancient elves. What were they like, Solas?"

"In my wanderings through the Fade, I have seen vast cities, built higher than the trees-twining through them, glittering. I have seen magic beyond your wildest dreams used by children. The average child wielded more magical power than the strongest of mages today. Much has been lost since Arlathan, Herald."

The Dalish girl continued to ask him questions, which only served to spark his curiosity even more. He _had_ to find out if this girl was descended from the Lavellan he remembered. As soon as the Herald left to speak to her advisers, Solas re-entered the Fade; this time, he was much more focused.

Solas felt like an outside observer. Yes, he was finally in control of his dreams. He called a spirit of wisdom to guide him to the Clan Lavellan. As soon as he saw the land, memories began to play out.

* * *

Lavellan-and it was definitely her-had aged considerably.

"I should have gone into Uthenera when Solas warned me." She sighed. "Arlathan is gone, and Solas' vengeance has destroyed our world.

"Mamae," a young woman called.

"Yes, Halani?" Solas wondered how many years had passed since he created the Veil. He had only ever seen Halani as a young child. No older than 100, at most-which in modern days, would be about 10.

"We need to keep moving, Mamae. The Dales are no longer safe for us. Abelen just got shot through the eye. We must go. Now."

"Alright, just let me grab my books, my child."

"By Elgar'nan, Mamae, we don't have time! Leave them."

"But our history is important, Halani!"

"We can re-write it, Mamae! Our lives are far more important." Halani dragged her aging mother through the forest. After what must have been days, they finally stopped.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can go on, Halani."

"Mamae, don't talk like that! You're one of the last true Elvhen!"

"Yet I am aging, vhenan. As are you. I spent over 700 years looking and feeling younger than you do now, Halani. My dear child, my teme is nearing an end. Were these the days of Arlathan, I would enter Uthenera and sleep eternally. Instead, I shall simply die."

"Mamae, please! Don't talk like that!" As the girl cried, Solas felt tears sting his eyes as well.

"Listen, my Halani. I want you to be a keeper of our history. I'm certain you will come across more elves like yourself, who refuse to accept the Maker. You must keep our history alive for them. One day, Fen'Harel will come back to restore Arlathan, and I want our kind to be ready for him."

"Of...of course, Mamae. Please, tell me everything."

 _'So,'_ Solas thought sadly, _'my dear Lavellan believed in me until the end. There is none I have wronged more than Lavellan. Ir abelas, lethallen...'_ and then, he cried out in pure anguish.


End file.
